My friends and I are going to do a DnD session soon so out DM asked us all to make our own backstories. I decided to expand mine a little and post a story here on the forums. Names are made with DF's name generator.
I’m Fikod PracticedDrinks, I’m a miner. Well, I was a miner until my iron pick broke. Seriously! no ones ever broken a COPPER pick and I go and bust my only iron one. That put me out of work, so, now i wield my steel battle axe, a gift form my grandmother, and get paid guiding caravans to some very exotic locations. But after seeing the world and nearly getting my foot ripped off by a Giant Skeletal Bat I decided it was time for me to go back to mining. First I needed a pick, I had saved up enough to buy a +steel pick+ but while I was at the market I saw this on a poster:
The Elves have discovered a new metal they call Mithril!
One elf has forged a pick of this mighty metal!
Defeat him in single combat to win this prize!
The tournament is TODAY!
While the constant use of exclamation marks was annoying i decided to enter the tournament. I was third in line to fight this elf who they called Imere Macamepari.
The first contestant was a human who I fully expected to win, big, muscular, generally the prime example of their race. But when the fight began the elf speed prevailed as he beat the human unconscious with his little wooden sword.
The next contestant was a human woman. She almost matched the speed of the elf and they exchanged blows for about 30 seconds. Then the elf scored a hit and the result was the same. I was up next.
As I entered the arena I heard the cheers of my fellow dwarves. They new my reputation as a caravan guard and they knew how man elves had challenged me and lost. However, I would not kill this elf. His skill in smithing was to be respected and we do not kill smiths without good reason. Besides, he was not aiming to kill either.
So the fight began, knowing my short legs would mean I could not match his speed, the elf leaped at me and swung a blow at me chest. I easily blocked it with the flat of my axe. It was my turn next. I swung a blow which, If he was still there, would’ve knocked him into the wall. However, with extraordinary quickness he jumped away. The fight went on like this for minutes. The crowd was riveted, expecting a mistake at any time. Then, that mistake came. As I stepped back my foot slipped in a puddle of split beer. As I went to one knee to steady myself the elf swung a mighty blow to my head, I raised my axe up to ward off the blow but the sword kept coming, right into the finely honed edge of my blade. the sword was cut clean in two and, surprised by his lack of weapon, the elf dropped what was left of his sword. Looking at me and expecting death, I surprised him further by just tapping his chest with my axe and saying “dead.” I had won a new pickaxe.
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Topic: [story] A Miner's New Pick (Read 736 times)